


A Momentary Lapse of Composure

by kerithwyn



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can be that calm all the time. Set s2-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Momentary Lapse of Composure

Astrid Farnsworth is patient; Astrid Farnsworth is kind. Astrid buys candy for Walter Bishop and does paperwork for Olivia Dunham and is a sounding board for Peter Bishop. Astrid keeps her cool under the most aggravating circumstances and does not flip out, ever, even when presented with things that really, really should not be.

Astrid is getting really fucking fed up with being so goddamn even tempered.

She doesn't quite let the door slam behind her on the way out of the lab; loud noises are a bad idea even when Walter isn't conducting a sound-sensitive experiment, and Astrid isn't the door-slamming type in any case. There isn't even anything specific that set her off this morning, it's just....

It honestly is her nature to be helpful, always has been. But "helpful" does not mean "doormat" and there are days she feels more a part of the furniture than a real member of Fringe Division.

Her contributions are not ignored by the team, of course, but they're so much a part of the lead-up and not the climax of any given case that Astrid is forever left hearing about the exciting (and yes, terrifying) parts in retrospect. And fair's fair, she'd joined the FBI on the strength of her computer skills and had always expected to be assigned as an analyst rather than a field agent.

Still.

She would like someone to call her "Agent" and not have it sound like "secretary." She would like to question a witness, maybe, or interrogate a suspect. Get into a car chase or have a reason to pull her gun outside the firing range. (But no, not really. She performed adequately at firearms training, enough to pass, and she wasn't recruited for her marksmanship anyway. The thought of actually shooting a human being still makes her kind of queasy, even though she knows she could if she had to.)

Astrid never imagined she'd be spending her career working in a slightly dank basement laboratory. With a cow. Although truth be told, Gene has become one of the highlights of her days; brushing the animal is soothing, and Gene looks forward to seeing her, in that placid bovine way of hers. Astrid has never confessed out loud--because she's afraid Walter will take it as a challenge--that she's occasionally had nightmares that involve Gene suddenly speaking to her in a perfectly understandable human voice. With a Scottish accent, for some reason. Fortunately Walter has been too busy to think of it, and despite his original reasons for wanting the cow in the lab, he rarely interacts with Gene aside from the occasional milking and the resultant strawberry milkshakes.

The milkshakes are really good. Astrid has to give Walter props for that.

There was a point at the beginning that had nearly been the end of her involvement with Fringe Division. Walter had *assaulted* her, stabbed her in the neck with a syringe full of knockout drugs and left her unconscious on the lab floor. He'd apologized after the case was over in his typically Walter-ish way, the kind of apology that made it clear he'd do it again in a heartbeat if he deemed it necessary. But what Walter deemed "necessary" often had too high a cost to those around him.

Olivia, to her credit, didn't try to argue Astrid back to work, merely listened to her anger and her fear. Both she and Agent Broyles had asked if Astrid wanted to file assault charges. She'd had a long hard night's thinking about that, knowing Walter's history, knowing it didn't excuse him. In the end it came down to understanding that his actions, while reprehensible, were driven by noble intent. It wouldn't have been enough, just that...

...but she also thought about what she'd seen in the short time since she'd started the assignment, the impossible made real, and knew that if she left all those doors would be closed to her. How could she go back to a "normal" life of translating communiqués and analyzing mundane data when the lab brought such fresh wonders (and even the horrors were wonders) to her every day?

And besides, Walter and Olivia and Peter really did need someone to look after them, a fact that only became clearer as time went on and the cases got stranger.

It's even gotten to the point that Walter's constant mangling of her name sounds like an endearment, so much a part of the rhythm of the lab that when he says "Astrid" it brings her up short, puts her on edge. Things must really be dire, she's come to realize, when Walter's scattered neurons collide to form her actual name. She'd rather be "Astro" or "Asterix" (her favorite, and in one of those coincidences Walter would probably claim was nothing of the sort, the name of one of the comics she sometimes reads to her brother) than Astrid-oh-dear-the-sky-is-falling, possibly literally.

She's certainly not unhappy with her job, and she wouldn't trade this strange adopted family--and they are, bonded together by all of the strangeness, the four of them against an increasingly bizarre world--for anything. It's just...sometimes, she would like to be the one to save the day or close a case. To not be left behind to babysit Walter when Olivia and Peter charge off to confront a suspect or investigate a possibility. She understands it's partly her fault that she's never considered for those tasks; she'd accepted the responsibility for looking after Walter along with the traditional analytic duties (and extremely nontraditional lab work), and it's not like they can just call up another junior agent or hapless student assistant to keep watch over him. Within minutes Walter would have him or her hooked up to a machine or drugged for fun and/or experiments, like poor Agent Kashner.

...it's that case, more than any other, that proves she's been ruined for any job but this one: she helped run the tests with Kashner after Walter drugged him, telling herself at the time it was just to keep Walter from doing anything worse. The truth is she'd *wanted* to see what would happen, no less than Walter himself. She's been corrupted, thoroughly, by her time here.

She wouldn't want it any other way. So if she's fed up, it's with no one but herself, for allowing the precedent to develop into a pattern. Astrid is, as she told Walter, a creature of habit; it's always been easy for her to fall into repeating, comfortable routines. A fleeting moment of discontent isn't going to disrupt what's become a fulfilling career. A dissatisfaction so ephemeral it's remedied by a quick walk outside the lab.

It just sounded so good in her head, that's all, the rant, and she can't help but giggle as she imagines the reactions if she'd said it out loud. Olivia would be concerned, Walter would look guilty, and Peter...might even smile with something like approval.

She and Peter have evolved a quiet friendship in the corners of the lab, bonding over the difficulties of caring for Walter (and caring *about* him, which has its own hazards). Peter never forgets to bring her coffee in the morning and had been deeply, sweetly upset on her behalf when those Triad thugs broke into the lab. (And if anything pointed to the fact that she truly wasn't cut out to be a field agent, it was her complete lack of preparedness for that attack.) There's nothing romantic with him, not even a whiff; Astrid learned her lesson a long time ago about boys in love with other girls. But he's kind and he makes her smile, and she honestly feels like they're friends.

...Olivia's a friend too, but in a more distant way. Astrid can't fault Olivia for her reserve, given everything she's been through, and how obviously hard it is for her to really trust anyone. It helps to think of Olivia like a feral kitten, although she's nowhere near that nervy; just wary and alert and guarded. Astrid would like to think she's someone Olivia could call on when she feels the need, but after watching Olivia these last two years it's clear she just *deals* with things, internalizing them or just powering through until she's clear, and she doesn't need any shoulder to lean on at all.

And if she did, well, Peter is ready and standing by, and both of them know it.

Whether Olivia would be there if *Astrid* needed a shoulder isn't really in doubt, either, although the last thing she wants to be is yet another burden for Olivia to deal with. Since coming to the lab and seeing the state of affairs, Astrid has prided herself on being as low-maintenance as possible; Walter really does take up all possible space for that kind of thing.

It's for the best, probably, because the distance allows her to create a line of separation between work and personal space. Granted that work these days tends to encroach into all corners of her life, but still--she *does* have friends and hobbies and interests away from the lab. She keeps them to herself, mostly, although Peter had noticed and tipped her a sly wink when she'd mentioned the Cavern club. A girl's got to have a place to blow off steam, after all.

Her life outside the lab isn't any kind of secret, but it's hers.

Astrid's walk around the campus has brought her full circle back the Kresge Building and she swings by Sebastian's Café as she heads inside. The cashier sees her, leans over the counter, and waves a packet her way; the staff has come to know Walter's needs well and obligingly keeps his favorites in stock, despite their stark contrast to the café's otherwise-healthy offerings.

"I'm back," she calls softly as she opens the lab door. "I brought Red Vines."

Walter comes toward her grinning, almost skipping like a child. Peter, perched on a stool behind some electronics he's working with, raises his hand in salute: acknowledgement, solidarity, and thanks in one motion. A little farther back, Olivia is on the phone, looking serious and intense--no surprise there--but she turns to give Astrid a distracted half-smile.

Gene looks at her with liquid eyes and doesn't say a thing, which is exactly the way it should be.

This is her found family, strange and dysfunctional as they all are. Together, they save the world. She also serves, quietly and without drama, and that's as important to the team effort as all the rest.

More important? *Most* important, she decides, and closes the door behind her with a smile on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> "They also serve who only stand and wait." -- Milton
> 
> My research, let me show you it: Sebastian's Café is in the Kresge Building at Havard, where Walter's lab is located. http://www.dining.harvard.edu/retail_dining/restaurants_sebastians.html
> 
> Writing this made me even *more* eager for s4, if such a thing is possible, to see how Olivia's and Astrid's relationship might be different in a world where they're on more equal footing. Also, I sort of wanted to title this "Astrid Farnsworth (is Not Your Bitch)," but possibly that's another fic.


End file.
